


Where There's Smoke - Mitchell/Frank - Bad Education

by CurlyCarla



Category: Bad Education (UK TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlyCarla/pseuds/CurlyCarla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitchell and Frank bump into each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where There's Smoke - Mitchell/Frank - Bad Education

Break time had just started, and Mitchell was pissed off. Rem Dogg was bunking off, and didn’t tell him before hand. What was he meant to do all day? Jack shit, that’s what. And maybe burn something. 

He walked over to the maths block, already fishing in his pockets for his trusty, tatty, box of matches. The striking strip on the side was so worn it didn’t do anything, so he had to use bricks or pavement, which weren’t exactly hard to come by when you live on a caravan site, luckily for him.

He hadn’t even turned the corner before he smelt the faint smell of smoke. Looks like he would have to share his smoking spot. He hoped they didn’t mind a small spot of arson either. When he actually turned the corner, he didn’t know if he was in luck, or completely fucked. Grayson was stood, back against the wall, taking a deep drag on a cigarette. It was too late to turn back now, so he gave him a quick nod and took his own place as far away from Grayson as possible without leaning on empty air.

Grayson nodded back, his feet shuffling slightly. Mitchell pulled a cigarette out of his pack, and struck a match on the wall behind him, lighting it as he brought it to his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he held the still burning match between the tips of his fingers until the flame ate up the match and started to burn his fingers. Then he dropped it in the scrubby grass at his feet. He didn’t realise that Frank had been watching, but after he stamped on the match, he heard a quiet chuckle.

“Why do you use matches mate?” Frank asked, cigarette between his lips. 

“You’ll think I’m crazy.” Mitchell muttered, inhaling deeply.

“Go on.”

“To light my cigarettes.” Mitchell answered, entirely straight faced.

Frank snorted, plumes of smoke forcibly ejected from his lungs. He coughed, waving the smoke from his face. “No, I mean, why don’t you use a lighter?” Frank asked, once his lungs had cleared. His eyes were watering, and it reminded Mitchell of when he cried during Pickwell’s memorial. 

“Matches are more fun. Plus it’s difficult to set other things on fire with lighters. You understand, I’m sure.” Mitchell said snidely, but with humour.

“That’s true. You skipping next lesson?” 

“Probably, since I value chain smoking more than maths. You?” 

“Yeah. No point to passing maths when I won’t pass anything else, eh?” Frank chuckled, clipping the end of his cigarette with his thumb to knock the ash off. 

“I reckon you could pass. If you tried.” Mitchell said quietly, but sincerely.

“I’ve been held back 5 years Mitch. Don’t see that happening.” Mitchell, internally cursing his blood vessels, blushed when Frank said his name. He didn’t notice the flush that took Frank’s face when he said he could pass. 

“So...” Mitchell started, without planning a middle or end.

“Do you want to get a drink later?” Frank cut in, speaking quickly. He didn’t look at him, seeming to be interested in a deformed dandelion, defying the laws of nature between the cracks in the tarmac. 

“Uh, yeah sure. I don’t reckon they’d serve me, but why not?” Mitchell decided to put in some sarcasm so he didn’t giggle like a twelve year old girl.

“I can get something from the off licence innit. There’s a decent bench in the park. What do you reckon?”

“I’d say it’s not a bad idea for a first date.” Mitchell said without thinking. Frank looked at him for the first time since he proposed the idea, unblinking. “I mean, uh-”

“Then it’s a date.” Frank said suddenly. They caught each other’s eyes for a second, maybe more, before looking away, simultaneously taking a drag on their nearly burnt out cigarettes. They dropped them to the grass simultaneously, not bothering to put them out. Frank slowly moved up the wall towards Mitchell, though he didn’t have far to go, since during their conversation Mitchell had subconsciously been moving closer too. They smiled awkwardly at each other, before sitting down at the base of the wall. They watched the cinders slowly eat at the dry autumn grass, before one blade finally caught. The tiny flame licked up the brown stalk, catching other blades quickly, before there was a small, yet healthy, fire going near their trainers. 

Mitchell’s hand slipped from his knee to the ground beside him, small bits of gravel digging into the palm of his hand. He saw Frank glance down at it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his own hand to the ground, gently covering Mitchell’s. Mitchell gave a small smile, quickly glancing at Frank before his eyes darted away again. 

It was like a game of chess. And it was Mitchell’s move. His tongue darted out to wet his cigarette warmed lips. He thought about kissing Frank. Was it too soon? Probably. It was definitely too soon. He was debating the logistics in his mind when Frank, the bastard, stole his move. 

It was only when the growing fire started melting the soles of their shoes that they broke apart, laughing, no longer nervous.


End file.
